


Zeymah Kiin

by FullmetalFlameElric



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, F/M, Fate, Father!Dean, Leadership, M/M, Nephilim, Prophecy, Sexual Violence, Taboo, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalFlameElric/pseuds/FullmetalFlameElric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our Hero, Our Hero, Claims an Angel's Soul<br/>I tell you, I tell you, the Brother Born comes<br/>With a steed black as night and gun as his name<br/>Believe, Believe, the Brother Born comes</p><p>To bring the end of all Humanity's foes<br/>Beware, Beware, the Brother Born comes<br/>With brother and Thursday, he takes to the roads<br/>You'll know, You'll know, the Brother Born comes</p><p>Father to son that is not his own<br/>Prepare, Prepare, the Brother Born comes<br/>Lover of Angel, the Betrayer of Home<br/>Take heed, Take heed, the Brother Born comes</p><p>Father abandoned and mother long gone<br/>Run far, Run far, the Brother Born comes<br/>No Home to return to, no Hope to be spared<br/>Run hard, Run hard, the Brother Born comes</p><p>Wings of white satin and covered in blood<br/>Hunter, Hunted, the Brother Born comes<br/>Soul scarred with nightmares of pain and time<br/>A warning, A warning, the Brother Born comes</p><p>Zeymah kiin, Zeymah kiin<br/>Voth aan sil do sos<br/>Wah kroniid vulom do dinok ahrk viik<br/>Kul do fin al<br/>Heim voth fin sos do gol<br/>Kaal do mun kiin kopraan ahrk sos</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zeymah Kiin

**Author's Note:**

> This was sparked while listening to Davhakiin from the Skyrim soundtrack. Honestly, I had a few great images and the suddenly BAM! Storyline! Damn you plot bunnies! Anyway, I was going to use Enochian as the basis for the language, but caved and used Dovah since I could actually find a "spoken" translation of it and knew how to pronounce things. It will be sprinkled in there and used as a language of ancient dragons so I'll make it work. There might be some Enochian once I figure it out, but till then it's Dovah.

## Siiv

Every great journey starts with a person. Whether this person is meaning to or not, they somehow manage to change the world or impact it in someway that will forever be remembered. Their name will be known in history and future generations will learn about their life. Books will be written about them. Songs will be sung about their heroic acts. This one person will set the role model for children everywhere to aspire to be, just like the one before them did.

More often than not, this person is decidedly normal. They live a peaceful life, not happy, but content where they are. This person is someone that blends into the background and keeps to themselves while being friendly with those around them. This person is an average citizen that likes the mundane routine only for it's familiarity. But despite this average appearance, there's always a dark secret hidden within.

Dean Winchester was no exception to this rule. The only difference was that no one would ever know just what he did to earn his title as an Angel among men.

Every morning, at exactly 5:30, he wakes to the sound of his alarm and stares at the ceiling until his eyes can focus without the sharp pain of sleep trying to close them once more. From there, he goes about his morning routine, getting up so as to not wake his wife, Lisa. She won't have to be up until eight and he has no intention of disturbing her sleep. He showers, shaves, brushes his teeth, and dresses in his worn out jeans and an old t-shirt that's stained from hours of work in the shop. He checks on Lisa's son, Ben, whom he adopted just a few months after their marriage. Once sure the child is sleeping peacefully, he goes to make a quick breakfast of eggs, toast, and bacon. He makes a double batch of bacon and toast, using it for a BLT for lunch. This he packs away and grab his keys once his boots are slipped on. At exactly 6:30 he is out the door and on his way to work.

One thing that was remarkable about Dean, that the entire town knew, was his car. The 1967 Chevy Impala was his baby. The black exterior had not a scratch on her. There wasn't a single dent to be found. The car was in perfect condition and a beautiful work of machinery. But it was the inside that made it so important to Dean. Every time he sat in the car, he found something he remembered. The rattle that would sound every time the heat was turned on ever since Dean had shoved lego in the vents when he was six. Or the toy soldier stuck in the ash tray in the back left hand seat where his younger brother, Sam, had gotten it stuck. Under the flooring, on the bottom of the trunk, their initials were carved. The small burn marks on the leather seats that were put there when their father still smoked while he drove. These small, minute details were what made this car part of the family. The memories attached to it and the fact that Dean had grown up in this car. It was his first home.

Dean and Sam had grown up on the road. After the death of their mother, their father had taken them into the world of hunting things that went bump in the night. He trained both to fight as well as hold a gun or a knife. He taught them weaknesses and habits of the creatures they hunted. All the while, they lived on the road transferring from school to school. It all stopped when the presence of these creatures became common knowledge. Fifteen years passed now and Dean was living a simple life in a world where the things he'd once hunted were now integrated into society like any normal human. On a regular basis, he found himself working side by side with beings he trusted about as far as he could throw them.

But he hid it well and swallowed his tongue.

At the age of thirty-two, he was well established in the world and he had a wife and a son he loved. For them, he could ignore everything his father had taught them and just continue on like everyone else. It was the choice he'd made after their father had gone missing. It was a promise he'd made to Lisa, Ben, and Sam. He had every intention to keep it.

And he'd been doing just that for the last twelve years. Going to and from work at the shop, fixing cars and anything else that might be brought in. He spent his Friday nights at the bar with his boss, Bobby. The man was an old family friend, an ex-hunter much like the Winchester brothers. The man was the only remaining father figure Dean and Sam had.

His routine was like clockwork. Every night after work, on the weekdays, he'd come home to Lisa and Ben, supper waiting. They'd sit down and discuss what had happened that day and how Ben was doing in school. On weekends they pent time as a family, going out and seeing Sam.

It was late one Friday night a year ago that Dean Winchester's life was turned upside down.

It was raining, the Heaven's having opened up to release their fury on the earth below. No living being outside was spared from the shower as the blond man found out soon enough. He was stood under the overhang of his home, green eyes watching the pouring rain pelt down on its victims. He'd arrived home just in time for the rain to start, a crack of thunder echoing overhead and drawing his attention to the skies above. A feeling of unease began to settle into his gut.

For the last few weeks he had been having strange dreams. Memories of his childhood mixed with odd visions of black shadowed wings and blinding light to create a headache every time he woke. Ever since, he could have sworn he'd started seeing someone watching him. It was always from the corner of his eye and a hidden shadow that disappeared the second he tried to focus on it. It was decidedly male. Whether it was human or not had yet to be determined. That thought alone only served to unsettled Dean further.

Little did he know, he was being watched.

The man shifted uneasily as he balanced the cell phone between his ear and shoulder long enough to pop the top of his beer off.

“I'm telling you, Sammy... something's not right.” He spoke up, naturally husky voice cutting through the din of the rain in the background and piercing through to the other end of the line.

There was a heavy sigh and a second later, a smoother, more velvet voice returned in comment. “Honestly, Dean... Are you sure you're not just overly tired? You're starting to sound a little paranoid even for you...”

“I'm serious, Sam.” Dean groused, his brow furrowing and green eyes narrowing.

“So am I. You're starting to sound like Dad before he ran off, Dean...”

The elder gave pause at that, studying the bottle in his hands. He contemplated taking a sip before shrugging slightly and taking a swig instead. His nerves were fried. He hadn't been sleeping because he could feel eyes on him every second of the day. And it wasn't the comforting kind. His mother used to tell him that angels were watching over him. He highly doubted that angels were real. And if they were, he found it hard to believe they'd be giving him the creeps, let alone making their presence known.

Sam sighed and spoke up at the silence once more. “Look... Dean just... go inside. Put Ben to bed. Take Lisa upstairs and just... remind yourself that every thing's alright... ok?”

Dean looked out passed the rain and sighed, finding nothing in his last surveillance for the time being. “Alright... sorry for panicking...”

“Hey, you don't do it often. Usually it's me you're trying to calm down... Night, jerk.”

A small smile quirked at the corner of his lips. “Night, bitch.” he returned, chuckling and hanging up. He stayed outside long enough to drain the bottle, letting the crisp autumn air nip at his face and fingers for a moment to just feel. Only when the tips of his fingers began to go numb did he finally go inside.

Lisa was at the sink, finishing up the last of dishes from that night's supper. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail of curls that bounced with every movement of her shoulders. Completely unaware, she never realized what hit her the second cold fingers snaked their way up the back of her shirt and rested just below her bra, wrapping around her rib cage. She let out a squeal of shock and turned, smacking Dean with a soap covered hand, leaving a hand print on his chest. It just earned her a chuckle and kiss.

“Sorry...”

“Dean Winchester, you are going to be the death of me.” she muttered, slowly settling and leaning back into his arms. 

“Yet you keep me around....” Dean hummed, smirking as he nuzzled closer, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling her familiar scent. He could hear her rolling her eyes.

“Whatever.” she replied, gently shoving him back and tossing a playful smile in his direction. “Go make sure Ben's ready for bed and I'll be up in a minute to deal with you.”

“I look forward to it.” Dean purred, stealing one more kiss before going through to the living room and to the stairs. Making his way up, he turned left at the first door along the hall. The door was partially open and he knocked on the frame. It took only a few seconds for the padding of bare feet across carpeted floor to reach him.

The door opened to reveal a young boy of about thirteen. Brown eyes lifted to the taller male and he blinked sluggishly. Dean took in the rumpled brown hair plastered flat to one side of his head and fanned out around the back. 

“Looks like I don't have to remind you it's time for bed.” He muttered, ruffling the already messy locks of hair.

Ben grunted and weakly batted his hand away. “Way ahead of you already... try not to be too loud tonight?”

A moment of surprise crossed Dean's face and he chuckled, quickly recovering. “I dare you to tell your mother that.”

The boy just smirked. “She'd kill you..” he stated with a small laugh. Dean just snorted, agreeing silently.

“You have no idea.” he muttered, shaking his head and stepping back to go further down the hall. “Night, kiddo.”

“Night, Dean...”

Time passed as always in the Winchester household. Lisa was asleep, curled into Dean's chest. Her head rested right over his heart, listening to the steady rhythm in her dreams. Dean had his arm wrapped around her, head twisted to the side and slightly buried in the pillows as soft snores escaped him.

Outside it was silent. The trees were still. The sounds of bat wings were absent from the night sky. Even the bugs were quiet as the moon made it's slow trek across the sky. The night was dead as shadows moved across the grounds.

Shattering glass snapped Dean from his dreams. Green eyes, darting around the dark room. His grip around Lisa tightened for a moment before he sat up. She stirred beside him, her own eyes wide and panicked.

“Dean?” she whispered, voice harsh against the sudden still in the house. The man glanced at her before silently rolling out of the bed, instincts ingrained from a young age kicking in once more. Lisa spoke up again and he shot her a warning look. She snapped her mouth closed with a click.

Moving silently over to the chest at the foot of the bed, Dean moved slowly to ensure the hinges didn't creak as he opened it. Setting the lid back to rest against the bed, he bent over and silently shifted the blankets and pillows around. A minute later he came back with what looked like a short sword in hand. To the trained eye, the weapon could be identified as a cinquedea. The short version of a broad sword that was a civilian weapon around the 15th and 16th centuries, it was originally developed in Northern Italy. The blade was around 15 inches in length, lending a much needed advantage to the man's distance from his target. 

Calloused fingers wrapped around the ivory hilt as Dean quietly shut the trunk lid once more. Taking a look at Lisa, he stepped towards her and dropped down to a crouch at her side of the bed. She was shaking, eyes filled with fear as she looked over the blade in his hands.

“Where did you-?”

“Later. Right now, I need you to go to Ben and make sure he's alright. Lock yourselves in the room and wait for me to come get you. Got it?” Dean stated, voice pitched low to keep her calm and focused. Lisa stuttered, panic settling in further. He gripped her shaking hands with his free hand. “Lisa. Can you do that?”

She nodded, swallowing as she stood on shaking legs. All the time she'd known Dean, not once did he ever mention hiding a sword in the house. Not once had he told her anything beyond having moved around due to his father's job. This new side of him, this dangerous version, was new and something that struck fear into her heart. She'd been living with this man for the last seven years.

“Good. Now.. I need you two to be quiet.. alright-”

“Mom?” Ben's voice sounded, the door opening and the boy stepping in. His eyes fell on the two and he froze. “Mom?” he asked again, voice raising a bit in panic.

“Ben!” Lisa cried, making a step towards the door only for Dean to shove her back. He darted over to the boy, grabbing his shirt and yanking him into the room as a solid thud of metal hitting wood sounded.

Right where Ben's head had been leveled seconds before, an ax now lay embedded in the door. A hand reached out and gripped the handle, yanking it free with one sharp tug. A cruel laugh sounded and Dean focused on the woman standing in their door. Her short cropped platinum blond hair was swept from her black eyes, the whites completely gone and leaving nothing but black in its wake. She smirked, her full lips pulling taught to reveal a set of gleaming white teeth.

“Dean Winchester... you're a hard man to find.” she purred.

On reflex, Dean pulled Ben behind him, pushing him towards his mother, and brandishing the iron blade before him. She just snorted out a laugh.

“That's precious...” stepping forward, her heels clicked on the wooden floor, the sound loud and echoing in the room. The only other sound was that of Dean's breathing, heavy but focused as he trained his eyes on her. “But your letter opener won't help you here.”

She stepped too close and Dean moved, thrusting the short sword forward only to have it gripped. Her hand wrapped around it, blood dripping from the gash being formed from the sharpened edges. His eyes widened in surprise.

“That's right, sweetie... Demon. Name's Meg...” the woman purred.

“What the hell do you want?” Dean snarled, recovering from his shock quickly and focusing on keeping his family safe.

Meg just grinned, much resembling the Cheshire cat from the old story of Alice and Wonderland. “Besides your wife's head on a platter and your son's entrails decorating the yard? A pony.” She stated flatly, shoving the blade from her. Dean's grip on the weapon loosened and it fell to the side, landing with a loud clang. “You see... I'm here on orders...”

“Orders? For what?” Dean scoffed, taking a small step back. “What the hell could you want us dead for?”

Meg shrugged, looking around bored. “We have our reasons. See...” she turned her black gaze to Dean once more, her smirk returning. “We're tired of living as equals with you creatures. You're pathetic and good for nothing more than meat and entertainment....”

“Yeah? Well fuck you, bitch...”

“Tempting.” she purred, looking him up and down shamelessly. She took a step forward only to stagger backwards as a sharp ringing sound ricocheted through the room. All four occupants gripped their heads, covering their ears and ducking in an attempt to block the sound. Around them, lights flickered before over charging. The bulbs burst violently, casting them in darkness. The sounds of scuffling sounded and the screeching stopped suddenly. A scream and a blinding flash of white.

“YOU!” Meg's voice cried, followed by a growl in a new voice. The ax was swung and embedded into the wall once more. Running footsteps and the crunch of glass by the back doors downstairs.

Dean dropped to his knees and groped blindly for his weapon. “Stay here!” he hissed before darting down the hall. He took the stairs two at a time, hitting the floor level hard and bending his knees to take the shock from his joints. His gaze darted to the kitchen where the back doors were smashed in, the frames the only things remaining of them. There was no sign of Meg or the other.

“Dean.” A low voice growled out from behind. The ex-hunter whirled around, the short sword held up and soon it was sunk into the chest of the being behind him.

The first thing Dean noticed that was off were the clothes. A black suit jacket over a rumpled looking dress shirt was accompanied by matching black slacks. Around the man's neck, a blue tie hung barely tied in a sloppy manner. A tan trench coat hung over this, giving the other man a slightly hunched look. The second thing were the pair of startling blue eyes that looked up at him from a slightly shorter height. The scruffy stubble covering the man's jaw was as black as the bed rumpled hair covering the top of his head. But it was the eyes that lead Dean to the third thing as they slowly moved down to the knife in his chest.

The guy wasn't bleeding.

He wasn't dead.

With a heavy sigh, the man reached up and pulled the blade from his chest. He looked it over a moment and then tossed it aside as if it were mere rubbish.

“Dean Winchester?” the blue eyed man growled. His intense gaze was fixed on Dean, shadows shifting behind him and raising up, the shapes of powerful wings fanning out from his shoulders, silhouetted on the walls.

By some miracle, Dean managed to respond, voice coming out weaker than he'd like to admit. “Who's asking?”

The man studied him a moment, head tilting to the side for a few beats before he straightened up. “My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord...”


End file.
